


Ghost on the Stage

by TheAzureFox



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Ema and Aoi are belly dancers, F/M, basically if everyone was a lot happier this is how i'd see them, belly dancer AU, characters are ooc due to alternate universe shenanigans, hireshipping, i just realized how rushed this is and oh god im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 01:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11818062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAzureFox/pseuds/TheAzureFox
Summary: Akira becomes infatuated with a belly dancer.(Hireshipping, EmaxAkira. Belly dancer AU)





	Ghost on the Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: my computer's battery kept fluctuating during the entire time I was writing this. I don't know if that's normal or not but seeing it go from 17% to 23% to 17% and trying not to scream inside as it slowly shrinks in size at varying rates while writing was a fun experience. (And I'm well aware I could've used a charger but I'm lazy okay?)
> 
> Moving on, this fic has changed a lot from its initial idea and concept (Ema being a belly dancer). Shoichi was supposed to play a part in this but this is already 20 pages long and I honestly hate myself bc I introduced a plot point early on that I had to resolve at the end and changed the whole narration for the story in the process. In my defense though, this took me five different times to actually start the damn thing (*eyes Akira for being a stubborn character to write*)
> 
> Characters are most likely ooc from canon bc they don't have the same baggage here necessarily that they do in the canon world. Therefore, their reactions to each other are much different from the real show as a result. I'll also fix errors later when it's not nearly mightnight. That is all.
> 
> (Also shoutout to Michvalier for helping me form the foundation for this fic and giving me the ideas on how to write it!)

Red.

Big.

_Fancy._

Those are the three words that first come to mind as Akira stands in front of the Phantom Dancer Theater Restaurant. The building is _massive,_ a structure so grand and magnificent that it simply towers every other masterful construction in its vicinity. Colorful bulbs of lights slide across a surface of rusty-red bricks, illuminating the theater in the fading light of the dusk-filled sky.

Akira inhales chilly air, rubbing his chin as he takes in the grandiose presence of the theater. Large brown doors engraved with elk and wolves beckon him forward, opening and closing with every passing client that makes their way through. Old men with suits, young ladies with extravagant clothing and even children pushed in and out without a second thought. Their seeming confidence in what lied inside almost made Akira cringe at his own embarrassment to push past a simple door.

He knew he needed to get inside. He knew he needed to see what lay inside, to catch a glimpse of the world, breathe, and shake away the trembling that set him with such unease.

“It’s fine,” he tells himself, pinching the bridge of his nose in mocking exasperation. “I’m fine. No need to get so worked up.”

If Aoi caught him like this, there’s no telling how she’d react. Before him laid her world, her garden, her _everything_. This theater was her playground – the one thing in the entire world that made her _happy_. And, here he was, unable to accept her invitation to see his little sister’s show because he was _nervous_.

He swipes his palms across the white surface of his pants, frowning and fixing his tie as he ignores the looks of curious passer-byers. He’s been standing in front of the theater for minutes now and he’s sure if he stands around for any longer someone’s going to call the police on him.

Yet, no matter how many times he warns himself to make a move, Akira can’t. He doesn’t like theaters, can’t stand theaters. It’s been so long since he’s last been in one that the mere sight of old-time posters and colorful lights makes him whirl.

“You couldn’t have chosen any over place to enjoy, could you, Aoi?” he mutters to himself, bemoaning his situation and the anxiety that pricks at his skin. “A goddamn _theater_ , of all places. Why couldn’t it be something else? A golf course, a swimming pool, _something_.”

He’s hardly aware of the figure that comes to sidle right beside him.

“Oh my, oh my,” a woman’s voice chimes. Akira switches his gaze from the ground to a pink-haired woman. “What’s wrong? Are you too nervous to ask a girl out or are you simply babbling nonsense to yourself?”

“Neither,” he affirms and the lady raises an eyebrow. “I was…merely considering why I had even bothered to come here in the first place.”

“And what have you decided?”

“That I’ve come here on my sister’s invitation.”

A smile that speaks of intrigue. “Who is your sister?”

“Aoi Zaizen.”

Her smile turns into a smirk. “Aoi Zaizen, huh?”

He eyes the surprised look on her face and the conniving grin that echoes of both puzzlement and curiosity. “Do you know her?”

“Why, but of course I do. We work together, after all. Although, Aoi’s never told me she has a brother before.”

Ah. That makes her reactions a little more clearer. “My name is Akira.”

“I never asked for your name?”

She chuckles as his cheeks color just the slightest bit.

“No, but I might as well give it to you before you _do_ ask.”

The woman places her hands behind her back with subtle amusement. “So, _Akira_ , if little Aoi has invited you to see her show then…why aren’t you in the theater right now?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Go in.”

Magenta eyes bore into his skin, probing with an insatiable thirst for more information.

“What’s the issue?”

“Stage fright.”

“Stage fright?” a dissonant laugh that clashes with the smile on her face. The woman seems be watching him, waiting and toying but not exactly attacking him either. “You _do_ realize you’re not sitting on a stage right now, right? You have nothing to be frightened of!”

“I…that’s true. It’s just…I can’t explain it. I just feel almost _scared_ to go in.”

“And yet you’re here,” she observes, “why?”

“Because my sister wants me to see her show.”

There’s a frustrated sigh from her lips. “Do you want me to escort you inside? This theater’s not a death trap. You’ll be fine once you step through those doors and see what’s in there.”

There’s something rather comforting about her presence, about the way she spins soothing words of reassurance and beckons him forward with a welcoming smile.

He’s finds himself uncannily reassured by her soothing words. There’s a kind of pulsing air of comfort that she gives off, a welcoming smile that beckons him forwards and settles aside his unease.

“I…it might help?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

He gives her a frustrated look and she merely blinks back. “Yes, sure, fine. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Oh? I expected you to back down. A man’s pride and all that.”

He scowls at her. “I don’t care for a ‘man’s pride’. All that ever leads to is the destruction of one’s own ego. I’d prefer not to be destroyed by such a thing if I must.”

The woman nods as if she agrees with his words. She closes her eyes, smiles, and then holds out a hand, waiting. Akira eyes it for a second and then relents in his hesitation, grabbing a hold. Her eyes jump open as if she hasn’t expected him to accept so quickly and her lips part just the slightest bit. Her fingers intertwine with his and she leads him forward, calm and confident as he nervously presses close.

They emerge on the other side of the magnificent brown doors and Akira lets loose a breath he hadn’t known he’d held. The woman beside him places her arms before her back and watches him as he marvels at the insides of such a _palace._

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

He can’t muster up an answer. The interior of the theater is a _masterpiece_ of design. Red carpets line the floors, spreading to and fro as the people of the world move back and forth. Golden statues of rui shi – Chinese guardian lions – lounged upon pillars of marble, welcoming guests with roaring mouths and claws in the air as they sat in the void of time. Chandeliers of crystal hovered overhead, catching the brilliance of the ceiling lights in their presence and showering it down below. Tapestries and posters of shows and plays decorated the walls, splashing out here and there and yet somehow adding to the magnificence of the theater itself. The customers of the lobby meander while the waiters of what Akira seems to be the restaurant portion of the theater move in-between silver doors that waft the scent of french fries and burgers his way. His mouth waters at the scent and he wonders just why, exactly, he had been afraid to step in such a place beforehand.

The woman beside him chuckles as his jaw drops in a gesture of his astonishment. “As much as I adore seeing new customers _ooh_ and _awe_ over my restaurant, I must really get moving.”

Akira turns to her with an eyebrow raised. “You own this place?”

She steps backwards, facing him with a ambiguous smile. “Do I?” she raises a hand to him and begins to turn away. “Well, I must be off now.”

“Wait!”

The woman pauses, pink hair drifting over her shoulder and slipping onto her back as she tilts her head in inquiry. “Yes?”

“Your name,-” he hears the ridiculousness of his voice and aims to correct it “-may I have it? Just for my own record, of course, so I know who helped me in?”

Slim fingers twist a lock of magenta. “Ema Bessho,” the lady says. “My name is Ema Bessho.”

“Ema…” he repeats, tasting it on his lips. The woman nods but does not stay to confirm any further. She departs with a simple wave and he can barely respond with an amble flail of his own before she laughs and disappears into the crowd.

~~~

It takes himself a few moments to recover and, when Akira does, he manages to regain his bearings and remember what his sister had told him.

“ _I’ll be in theater five,_ ” she’d said, eyes bright and glimmering as he promised his arrival to her workplace. “ _I already have a table reserved for you. Well, partly-reserved, but the other two members who usually sit there will be working tonight. Give the security guards your name and show up no later than 8 P.M. They’ll be on strict instructions to let you in.”_

He checks his watch. _7:53._ He has seven minutes left before Aoi’s show starts. He’s half-tempted to wait it out, to order up some food or to wait around in the lobby until just a minute before his expected time. However, he knows his sister will be watching, waiting, and the sooner he gets into his seat the sooner she’ll be reassured that he’s actually come this time around. So, with that fact in mind, he approaches the theater with the silver five above the door and halts as a security guard eyes him with uncertainty.

“Ticket?” them man asks.

“My name is Akira Zaizen,” he tells the guard, hoping his sister hadn’t forgotten to inform the man of information so crucial, “and I was told by Aoi Zaizen that I have a reservation waiting for me.”

Recognition flashes in the man’s eyes and he nods. “Right, of course. You’re table is table two. It should be at the very front and near the stage.”

“Thank you.”

Akira begins to make his way through but pauses as the guard holds up a hand.

“I also wanted to say,” he begins and then scratches his cheek as if embarrassed, “that you’re sister is a very kind person and a very good dancer. You should be lucky to have her.”

He lingers on that and then nods. “Right, thank you. I love my sister and I’m sure she’d be glad to hear such words from someone she works with.”

The guard nods and then beckons him along. Akira strides past, gaze flitting past each and every table until he finds the sole structure that lies vacant. He takes his seat, expecting people to fuss and protest, but instead they merely glance at him, shrug, and sip from their wine glasses to return to their chatter. The blue-haired almost feels out of place in such a place, alone and quiet as his eyes flit to the stage in a need to fixate somewhere else.

Blue.

Behind red curtains, Akira sees something almost cyan in color quickly dart into the shadows of the stage. He peers closer, angling his body to try and get a better view, but his actions are for naught. The mysterious flash of color sinks into darkness and Akira is left mystified as to what its appearance means. He peers around to see if anyone else had notices but sees everyone too into their own meals and talk rather than the stage itself.

A spotlight.

Light filters in on the stage and the room of the restaurant theater darkens. Akira looks on with mild interest, sipping from a glass of water a waiter provides him as he waits.

A girl jumps on stage, waving to the audience with a beaming smile. Her hair is blue – likely a wig judging by the awkward placement of hearts and pigtails – and her eyes glisten with an unnatural shade of purple. A white bra tinged with pink settles on her chest while a light blue skirt settles from her hips to her feet. Akira also notices that she has white puffy sleeves that settled on her arms, attached to dark blue armbands that complimented the winged heart ear-rings that hover just above.

“Hiiiiii!” she says, her voice high-pitched and drawn out. “Welcome everyone! I’m so glad you’ve all come here to see my show tonight,” her gaze sweeps over Akira and her smile grows wider, “now, before I begin my dance, does anyone have anything to say?”

The voices around Akira meld into one. “Love Blue! Angel!”

“Alright, alright, good job!” She bounces in her steps, spinning around and her skirt follows with her. He squints at the dancer, eyeing her with mild interest because _that looks like Aoi but it’s_ not _Aoi._

Beneath her, a man begins to sing, his voice sounding soft and quiet while his partner – a young boy who looks more bored than anything – taps his hands on the drum. The girl – Blue Angel, Akira presumes, do the incessant shouting of the words ‘blue’ and ‘angel’ together – nods in appreciation and begins her dance. The sudden exuberance she had showed seconds earlier evaporates into a cool and chilling calm and she readies herself as the music persists.

A beat of the drum. Her hip rises. Another beat. Her hip falls. Then, a cycle. Her hands catch the air, pulling it inwards. Her torso twists and her body falls up and down, coiling and then uncoiling. Blue Angel’s feet take her side to side, creating a kind of swaying motion that captures the attention of all who watch. The rhythm of the song and the sound of the drum melds into her dance, riveting and enticing and Blue Angel has the crowd of theater-goers in the palms of her hands.

She teases the audience, winks and beckons and Akira can’t help but admit he feels a little uncomfortable because he’s _99 percent sure that’s sister_ but he can’t quite tell for sure. Aoi is, as he’s well aware, a theater kid. She revels in the attention given to her by the masses, enjoys it so immensely that she reminds him of himself when he was her age. However, despite her adoration for the acting and dancing that came with her passion, Akira had yet to see her perform in any way such as _this._ She was a nervous thing, reserved and collected and yet a bundle of fire that was waiting to catch itself on fire. Blue Angel was that perfect persona, the exact expression of the flames that scorched Aoi’s heart and the girl’s performance reminded him of none other than his sister. She was the same height, the same size, and the brown that peeked out from under blue hair almost assured him to no end that he was right. However…the fact that Aoi had yet to greet him certain brought upon… _omens_ …of who the girl before him might have been…

Blue Angel was meticulous. Her dance was near flawless yet Akira could see the obvious missteps her and there. She was young but she was not perfect, a student in teaching. Her timing fell in and out of sync with the music she was provided but it was so minimal that an untrained eye might have missed the key moments she failed to follow up on.

The girl continues her performance, gaze heated but concentrated. She’s well aware of her flaws, wincing at every wrong twist of her foot and every wrong movement of her hands. Akira’s half-tempted to call out pointers, to gently correct her movements with some words of his own, but he keeps quiet. Blue Angel learns from her mistakes, correcting her actions to fit with the dance itself. The beginning of sweat dots her skin and Akira can already see the exhaustion in her eyes by the time she ends her dance in a bow. The audience, however, goes crazy, standing up to applause her performance. He joins in, nodding to the girl and she catches his eye. Her face lights up and she grins, returning his nod as she disappears behind red curtains.

When Aoi Zaizen manifests at Akira’s side without blue hair and purple eyes, he takes her into a hug and hums his approval. “You were the one dancing up there, weren’t you?” he asks softly, rhetorically.

“I was,” she nods, beaming with his praise.

He removes himself from her side and smiles. “Well, good job then. I’m glad I came – it was quite a performance, _Blue Angel._ ”

“Shh, not so loud!”

He tilts his head. “Does no one else here know your true name?”

“Only those who work here. And you, obviously.”

“I guess I should keep it a secret then.”

“Yes, yes you should,” she laughs and then tucks him back into his seat. He gives her a look of confusion and she interprets it easily. “Come on and stay. My co-worker is going up next and, trust me, she’s a _lot_ better than I am.”

“But…I haven’t even eaten dinner yet…” he protests weakly, his stomach growling in agreement.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Aoi holds up a hand and a waitress comes over. “Just order whatever you want and,” she turns to the waitress, “put it on Blue Angel’s tab.”

“Understood,” the woman nods and faces Akira. “What is it you want, sir?”

“A hamburger and some fries, please.”

“Noted, and you, Aoi?”

The girl waves a hand. “I’m fine for tonight.”

“Noted again.”

She walks away and leaves the two alone.

“So,” Akira begins, “what’s this coworker like?”

Aoi swirls a straw in her glass of water. “Smart, beautiful, _cool_ ,” she sips and then huffs at her brother’s disbelieving look. “What can I say? She’s my mentor – she’s practically a _pro_ at belly dancing.”

“Sounds like she must be better than you.”

“Oh, I harbor no doubts about that. A student can never surpass their teacher. Not Ghost Girl, anyways.”

“Ghost Girl?”

The brown-haired girl shrugs. “Her stage name. I’m afraid she probably wouldn’t want me to tell you her real name. She has enough stalkers as it is.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Am I a stalker now?”

She blushes at her own accusation. “N-No, of course not, brother! That’s not what I was implying, not at all!”

“Sure, sure.”

“It’s _not_ ,” she puffs out her cheeks.

The room darkens yet again and the siblings flit their attention to the stage.

“Welcome one and all to the finale of the show,” a male voice booms and a shadow crosses past red curtains. “May we all welcome Ghost Girl to the stage!”

A spotlight flicks on and, with it, Akira’s breath is stolen.

A woman stands in golden illumination, facing the audience with devious amusement evident in silver eyes. Gray hair painted with pink dances as she enters, a long magenta scarf tied to each ends of a wrist. A dark red bra laced with white sits on her chest while a red skirt that parts at the legs sits on her hips. A veil of gray keeps her mouth from view, spilling over her neck and above her collar bones as she sashays forwards.

The man from before begins singing again and the drums begin beating. Unlike Blue Angel’s melody, however, which was soft and soothing, the music for Ghost Girl is more upbeat and inviting. Her hips shake, her hands flow in the air, brushing against her chest and drawing attention to her stomach. She reaches upwards, crouches down, and then shoots upwards to begin a dance.

Her movements are mesmerizing, capturing Akira’s attention with such vigorous passion that he can’t help the faint red that soils his cheeks. He’s instantly smitten by such a dancer, finding himself infatuated by the haunting way she draws in attention and then beckons him close. Ghost Girl tosses her head back, her body following her actions and, in a way, Akira thinks her to be much like a snake. She coils upon herself, traversing down and brushing her hands across her torso and hips. Then, she springs upwards, her eyebrows arching up with cold cunning that both invites and then repels.

“She’s amazing,” he finds himself saying.

Ghost Girl’s eyes snap to him and she almost seems to giggle. She swirls, her arm scarf treading with her, and she seems to gesture to him. He watches, uncertain and unsure but even more hesitant as her gaze leaves his.

“Yeah, she is,” Aoi simply smiles at him in knowing.

The woman continues her dance, calm and confident and almost on point with all the cues of the music. Unlike Blue Angel, unlike his sister, Ghost Girl is experienced to the point of _knowing_ how to work her dance and how to interpret it in her audience’s favor. Akira almost hates to say it, but he’s ensnared by her spell, captured and imprisoned just as the rest of the room’s guests are. There is no noise to be heard, only the hums of a song and the sounds of her feet against golden planks. When, at last, she comes to a halt, Akira almost feels empty. He stands and claps and cheers just as everyone else does but…he can’t help but crave _more_. He knows it’s lust that calls out to him, that makes him look upon her with a longing desire, but he crushes it as quickly as it comes.

Or…tries to.

Ghost Girl leaps off the stage, waving to her fans before moving past and pausing in front of Akira. It is only for a moment, but she flits her gaze over his body, seems to smile, and then departs to a room he assumes is meant for changing.

_Goddamn._

He’s heads over heels.

Aoi chuckles at his gaping jaw. “What’d I tell you? My coworker’s popular for a reason. She’s the star of this theater, honestly. As much as I’d love to beat her, I don’t think I’ll ever find myself just as beautiful and talented as she is.”

“You never know,” he says but he can’t help the way distraction filters into his voice. Ghost Girl’s image haunts him and he turns to his sister with distant intrigue. “Say, does that woman perform here every night?”

“Interested?”

He nearly bites his cheek in denial. “Yes.”

“I didn’t know she was your type.”

“Honestly? Me neither.”

Aoi sips from her drink. “Well, I can tell you this much. If you keep seeing my shows…you’ll also see hers.”

“Is that blackmail to get me to keep seeing your shows?”

His sister sips again. “Yes.”

He sighs at her nonchalance. “Fine. I’ll keep coming then. After all, I can’t miss out on Blue Angel’s magnificent shows either, right?”

Aoi smiles.

“Right.”

~~~

Akira returns to the front doors of the theaters yet again, staring at the intricate carvings with distant longing.

“Here again?”

He turns to see Ema peering at him. She’s wearing a navy blue short-sleeved shirt and black pants, gloves on her hands as she breathes in the chilly air of dusk.

“Yeah.”

She waits.

“Are you going to go inside?”

Akira fixes his tie.

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t you inside right now? Isn’t your sister waiting?”

He adjusts his tie to the left. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

He adjusts it to the right. “Yes, my sister is waiting for me.”

“And…are you going inside?”

He places it in the middle. “Yes.”

She squints. “And…you’re still outside?”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t you be…inside?”

“Yes.”

“Are you ever going to stop saying ‘yes’?”

He shrugs at her. “Maybe?”

Ema rolls her eyes and grabs his hand. “Come on then.”

“That’s not…necessary…” Her fingers feel strangely warm.

“Oh?” She lets go and beckons him forward. “Then you won’t mind walking a lady in?”

“Are you joking?”

“Maybe.”

“Then let’s go inside.”

A grin unfolds on her lips and she nods, leading him forward. She holds the door open and he takes it, moving past her with thanks in his eyes. Ema merely brushes a hand through her pink hair and falls in alongside him.

“Are you going to leave again?” he asks her.

“Mm, no,” she leads him to theater five and nods to the guard. “I have a guest with me tonight.”

The guard looks at Akira and merely frowns. “Right.”

Ema moves forward and Akira follows. The woman takes him to a table – the same table that he had been sitting the night before. She takes a seat and he follows her example, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow.

She turns to him and repeats the gesture. “What?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I’m off my shift for the night.”

“Then why are you here?”

She trails her fingers across the wood of the table. “Well, I wouldn’t be lying if I wanted to see Blue Angel’s performance with my own eyes. I normally don’t get to see her perform from down here.”

“Don’t you work here? Haven’t you seen her before?”

“Mm, I have. But never up close. I’m always busy doing something else while she’s dancing.”

“Something…else?”

The room darkens before Ema can say anything more. Blue Angel steps on stage, laughing and smiling, and she almost seems to be beaming as she begins her dance. Her arms move up and wave like kelp in the breeze of the ocean. She spins, swirls, her feet leaping her from place to place as her hips sway side to side.

“She’s got talent,” Ema says, grabbing a glass of coffee from a waiter. “She’s a very skilled belly dancer.”

“Yeah,” he accepts a glass of orange juice and takes a swig, “I’m surprised at how well she’s doing, actually.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Aoi’s not usually the type to put herself on the stage and perform like this.”

“Could’ve fooled me. The kid’s a natural.”

“To be honest, I was always afraid she wouldn’t put herself on the stage. She’s always wanted to but…because of me…”

“What happened?”

“An…incident in my past. About when I was her age,” he takes in a breath and tries to calm his hands as they begin to shake. It suddenly feels as if he has a million eyes on him, people laughing and pointing and he can feel the color drain in his face. The spotlight’s on him, not Blue Angel, and he can see the malicious amusement as the people of the theater turn on him. He fidgets, fixing his tie and shrinking back because no, not again, he doesn’t want to be scrutinized _again_ -!

“Hey.”

Ema’s soft voice breaks him from his reverie. He shakes his head at her and her shoulders slump with a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “it’s not something I like thinking about.”

She draws back, disappointed but understanding. “Right. I’m sorry then. For bringing it up, I mean.”

“It’s fine,” he waves it off.

Blue Angel taps her heels on the stage, sashaying forth and then reaching out to the audience. She winks, slides her hands across her body and up, and then steps back as the music draws into a quiet lull. She bows, blows kisses to the crowd and then takes her leave.

From beside him, Ema stands up and stretches. “I guess that means I’m off-shift now. I’ll see you around, Akira.”

“Bye,” he says and she leaves him with a grin.

Seconds later, Aoi comes to nestle beside him.

“How’d you like this performance?”

He pats her head as she stares up at him with stars in her eyes. “It was good. You were a bit out of sync with the music but, other than that, it was well executed.”

The brown-haired girl beams, puffing out her chest and then notices the glass of coffee left behind. “Oh?” she says, eyeing it with mild concern. “Did you have a guest?”

“How could you tell?”

She pretends to play innocent. “You never drink coffee.”

“One of your coworkers decided to join me.”

“Ema, huh?” Aoi laughs at the name. “I’m surprised she’s taken an interest in you. She doesn’t seem to be the type who’s into businessmen – much less one as boring as yourself.”

“Hey,” he jabs her in the side and she giggles, “my job is boring but also very _important._ Without me, you’d probably be riddled with credit card fraud and fake Aoi’s walking all around town.”

“Yeah, yeah, mister head of security,” she jabs him back and he winces at the force of such a blow. “Are you excited?”

Akira stares at her. “For what?”

“Ghost Girl.”

A spotlight flickers on and the aforementioned devil herself appears. Ghost Girl glides onto the stage, swaggering in with her scarf billowing behind her. She catches Akira’s eyes, winks, and then begins her dance. Her hips shake, swaying as she slithers up and down, acting much like a cobra whose eyeing its soon-to-be prey. Her hands reach out above her, twisting in a knot and then uncoiling to brush against her cheeks.

From the corner of the stage, a shadow manifests. It is only a man in a black suit, someone who Akira is sure is more a showpiece to the dance than an actual part of it, but his appearance makes the blue-haired man fidget with uncertainty. The newcomer approaches Ghost Girl, bowing before her and she echoes the movement with a curtsy. The man produces a red rose and she takes it, smelling the flower before bringing it to her chest. Her stomach sways in and out and she steps forward, tossing the rose in front of her with one hand and then dropping it only to catch it in her other the moment she lets go.

“Wow.”

His sister turns from Ghost Girl to him. “Captivating, isn’t she?

He nods.

“Yep, that’s my mentor for you. Always mysterious and alluring. It’s almost impossible how elegant she looks,” Aoi sighs, resting her chin on a propped up hand. “And, yet, maybe she’s more transparent than she seems.”

His gaze fixates on her. “How so?”

Aoi tilts her head. “Ghost Girl has taken an interest in you, it seems.”

Akira stares at his sister in astonishment, glancing back at the stage.

Ghost Girl curtsies in his direction, winking as she throws her rose to him. Against his own will, he leaps for it, jumping out of his seat to grab the flower. Once it is secured amongst his fingers he sinks back to his seat, cheeks smarting with red as he looks over the faux plant with obvious interest.

“See, I told you so.”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he tells her.

“No, it’s pretty fucking obvious, brother.”

The music comes to an end and Ghost Girl hops off the stage, her steps calm and precise as she meets up with the Zaizen siblings.

“I hope you liked my show?” the woman asks, her voice muffled by her veil.

“I, ah, uh, of course I did!”

He stutters in embarrassment and messes with his tie to rid himself of his anxiousness.

“Really?” her voice fluctuates with petty amusement while her shoulders ease down. “Well, I’m glad then. I worked really hard on that routine today; it’s the first time I’ve tried it out.”

“You’re…first time?”

Ghost Girl winks. “Consider the rose a gift.”

He doesn’t have the decency to keep his face from going childishly red as she walks off. Aoi merely laughs, pulling him away as he tries to regain his composure.

“See? I told you so. She’s taken an interest in you, brother!”

He’s not sure whether to indulge in his panicking heart or slink away into the void of shame. For now, however, he chooses the former, twirling the rose in his heads and smiling fondly.

“Yeah.”

~~~

From then on, his life is a routine. He attends work as he always does, comes home, and then he heads to the theater to watch his sister’s and Ghost Girl’s shows. Ema greets him insistently at the entrance of the theater, meeting him every day he appears to offer up chatter and company until his sister finishes her show. Her timing always seems coincidental if not on purpose, manifesting by his side just as he appears or even waiting for him in front of the carved doors that lead to the insides.

He keeps the rose as a memento, tucking it into the breast pocket of his suits that he attends the theater in. It is perhaps one of his most cherished possessions and, every time Ghost Girl lands eyes on it, she expresses her amusement in the form of yet another rose thrown at him. He accepts each and every false flower he gets, collecting them with interest while also earning Ema’s mocking ire. The pink-haired girl is rather teasing of the fact that Ghost Girl gives him so many flowers, mocking him left and right as “Ghost Girl’s admirer”. Aoi joins in on the fun, occasionally meeting up with them just before her show begins. She pokes fun at the rose he keeps in his pocket, playfully reinforcing Ema’s nickname by calling Ghost Girl “her brother’s lover”. This, in turn, earns Aoi a jab in the side from Ema. Akira can only stare at the both of them when this occurs, clueless as to what inside joke they are playing at.

One night, his sister takes a sick leave off work and, in Blue Angel’s place, Ghost Girl dances. Her segment goes on for double the time and, while Akira’s happy to see his favorite dancer perform for longer than usual, he notices that Ema is strangely absent. The girl hasn’t greeted him at the doors like she usually does. In fact, she hasn’t even manifested before him to tease or mock him. It makes him worry and he feels almost at a loss as he watches Ghost Girl’s performance without her by his side.

He’s so lost in his concern, musing over the pink-haired woman and her disappearance when he notices dark red appear before him. Ghost Girl stands in front of his table, offering up a silent hand.

“What…?” he asks.

“Join me for a dance,” she says. “It might lighten you up.”

He eyes it with slight concern before grabbing her hand. She pulls him up and takes him up a flight of stairs. He keeps his eyes trained on her, _must_ keep his eyes trained on her. Akira can feel the stares, can feel the burning gazes that set his clothing aflame and tries to focus on the way Ghost Girl laughs and shakes her body side to side. Music intertwines into her movements and she circles around him, her skirt flowing behind her. He follows her, his body replicating her movements until they are two circles that rotate and revolve.

She presses against him, her figure just inches away from his. Her silver gaze softens, hands pressing against his cheeks and her thumbs rubbing along his skin as if to say: “calm down, it’s fine”. Akira tries to relax under her guidance, tries not to see the audience and focus on the way the music carries her movements, the way she seems to almost laugh and wish to move closer, and he tries to follow along, uncertain and unsure as to what is expected of him. Ghost Girl does nothing to guide him, merely keeping his attention attached to her, but she seems to indulge in his gaze, drawing his eyes up and down with purposeful movements. Akira follows along, facing her and drawing his gaze to where she wants him to, and then he looks up. He looks up at her and…sees past her.

Thousands of eyes crawl all over him, poking and digging and Akira freezes. The audience is staring, judging, their faces morphing to that of teens and adults, pointing and laughing and sneering and he pales immensely. He plays his instrument, holding it in his hands but the notes…the notes don’t come out right. His hands shake, slipping and sliding because he’s tired and school’s tomorrow and he has a test but he wants to play one last show before he goes back and…he’s nothing but a laughingstock. He hasn’t properly prepared his instrument – his trombone – and the lack of maintenance shows. His music – which is normally prized for its quality and thought – squeals and shrieks in humiliation. His cheeks burn as the crowd, amused and bored, points fingers at him, snickering at his failure until his eyes burn and…!

Akira leaves the stage, shaking and trembling and he hears Ghost Girl’s cries echo after him. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t stop, doesn’t trust himself to face her as he escapes into a nearby room and shuts the door behind him.

The man looks at his hands, looks at the floor and then to the tie that settles around his neck. He curls his fingers into a fist and hits a nearby wall, gritting his teeth as he tries to keep his eyes from stinging. “ _Godammit Akira_ ,” he hisses at himself, fingernails digging into his skin. “ _I thought you were over this_.”

A knock on the door and he startles.

A voice on the other side.

“Akira, may I…may I come in?”

Ghost Girl.

He tries to regain his composure. “Go ahead.”

The door opens and the belly dancer steps through. She closes the door behind her and bows as soon as it shuts. “I’m sorry!”

Akira pulls himself back from the wall. “…For what?”

“For dragging you on the stage,” she says, fingers combing through a strand of pink that peaks out from under her wig. “I didn’t think I’d…I didn’t think doing that would have…are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says.

“Are you _sure?_ ”

“Yes.”

Her shoulders slump. “I’m so sorry, Akira.”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing that has to do with you. It’s something that’s been haunting me for a long time…”

“May I…May I ask what?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. If it’ll help ease your mind of worry,” his shoulders slump and he offers a wobbling smile. “It was an accident of my past. I actually used to be a musician before I went into my current job, believe it or not.”

“Oh really?” her voice is curious.

“Yeah and…I messed up. Royally. In front of so many other musicians too. I became a laughingstock in that theater and…ever since…I’ve been afraid to go into a theater. It’s stupid, honestly, to be afraid of such a thing – it happened so long ago and I’m so stupid for lingering on it for so long but…I’m sorry if I’m worrying you even more.”

“No, it’s fine,” she shakes her head and then looks at the floor. “Hey…,” she says, “since…since you shared something like that with me can I…can I share something with you. As a way to even the score?”

“You don’t need to,” he says. “I only wanted to get that off my chest. It’s not anything you need to pay me back for.”

“But that most not be a pleasant thing to go around telling people about. It’s only fair I do something in return.”

“Ghost Girl, it’s not necessary, really…”

“But I _want_ to,” she states firmly. Her hands fidget with the silver-and-pink wig that settles on her head. “ _Here_ , I’ll do this. I’ll show you who I am. I’ve been meaning to for a while but…watch.”

Akira opens his mouth to protest but finds himself silenced as pink hair falls down over her shoulders. The woman blinks, her gaze flicking between him and the wall beside her as he gapes in astonishment.

“E-…Ema?”

“Hi,” she says weakly. “Are you surprised?”

“And you are…the same?”

“I’m Ghost Girl, yes,” she reaches out for the rose on his breast pocket and plucks it up. He lets her and she twists it in her fingers, musing. “I’m the owner of this theater and your sister’s mentor. I’m honestly surprised you hadn’t figured it out sooner. I was trying to be as obvious as possible as to who I was under the costume.”

“I…” her words click together and he can see Ema and Ghost Girl intertwine into one. Briefly, he wonders how he had missed the obvious. Ghost Girl was the same height, the same size as Ema. Ema herself had shown the same amount of interest that the belly dancer had, teasing him with either her words or the roses that her persona gave out. “Wow.”

She musters up a laugh and then grabs his hands. “So, does this help take your mind off the stage?”

His eyes widen and soften. “It does.”

“Do you want to go home for now? My dance is already over at this point – I’m sure someone else has already taken my place. I can call up a taxi if need be.”

“I…might do that.”

She nods and then sighs, escorting him to a side door marked as the exit. “I’m sorry to leave this night on such a sour note. Under different circumstances, I might try to do something but I’m afraid I’m going to have to explain what’s going on to my employees.”

He waves a hand. “Don’t worry about me, Ema. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Ema’s eyes glimmer. “Tomorrow,” she says, “I’ll meet you with something special.”

She pushes him out the door before he can say anything more and gives him a goodbye wave. Akira smiles, reciprocates it, and then takes his leave.

He mulls over her words, wondering, but does nothing to ponder the extent of Ema’s words. He tucks himself into the night, calling up a taxi before disappearing from the theater’s side.

~~~

The next day, Ema waits at the front of the theater from him alongside his sister. They are chatting when he arrives, exchanging words back and forth before they notice his arrival. Aoi says something, jabbing her elbow into Ema’s ribs, and the older woman winces and then tries to hold her head high as red dusts her cheeks.

“Hello,” Akira says to the both of them and they greet him amiably.

“You’re here,” Ema says.

“Yes.”

Aoi waves to the both of them. “You’re admirer is here, Ema,” the girl tells her. “So I’ll take my leave and let you two be.”

“Ah, Aoi, wai-!“ the door shuts in Ema’s face and the pink-haired woman sighs. “Well, alright then. Screw you too.”

“Is there something I should be aware of?”

She spins back around and holds out a hand. He grabs it and they intertwine their fingers.

“I wanted to take you to my favorite restaurant. As a means of formal apology for my actions.”

“You don’t-“

She places a finger on his lips and shakes her head. “If I can’t persuade you with that, can I ask for something else?”

Her hand drifts to her side and she peers at him to await an answer.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“If you won’t accept an apology will you accept a date?”

Ema’s eyes watch him carefully, scanning him back and forth. Her gaze speaks of distress, of worry and hesitance but of confidence too. She awaits his answer with parted lips, an arm behind her back as he muses over his options.

“Alright,” he says at last. “I accept.”

Her face brightens immensely and she drags him forward, almost yanking him in exuberance as they make their way downtown.

“I’m so glad,” she breathes. “You had me concerned for a second.”

He squeezes her hand.

“Did I?”

“Yes, silly.”

She grins.

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason I can see Ema as a belly dancer bc she just really seems to fit in the role. In an alternate universe, I feel like this is one of the possible roles her character could take. I also included Aoi in here bc I wanted to try a Ema & Aoi dynamic that I hope appears in-show. They're the only two girls in the show so far and the fact that they apparently (?) haven't met so far ruins me inside bc I want these two to meet and interact in some way, shape or form (plz YGO I beg of you).
> 
> That aside, this is 20 pages long and I am astounded as to how such a simple idea carries on for so long. I know I have a tendency to be masochistic and keep writing forever and ever until I can reach a satisfactorily conclusion but...damn...my own persistence knows no bounds. Hopefully my next piece will be short but that's what I wish for every week so (*shrugs*)
> 
> Anyways it's like 10 P.M. and I've only just now finished this so I'mma just slide out of here and go to sleep so I can wake up to Ema/Ghost Girl's episode tomorrow and just jump up and down in excitement because, come on, it's EMA, my favorite character who I like to make suffer a little too much.


End file.
